While I'm waiting, I sit back and admire the lush new office Ryker's assigned to me. This office has to be nearly as big as Ryker's and it has a one hundred and eighty-degree view of the city. It occurs to me that if my office were combined with Ryker's, he'd have almost a complete three-sixty view. The elevator being the only obstruction.
With five minutes to spare, Susie rushes into my office with the packets. After I thank her profusely and she goes back to her desk, I head toward my meeting.
An hour later, I'm back in my office and on the phone with the realtor. She confirms for me that she's going to meet me at the apartment in thirty minutes and that the owner is willing to do a month-to-month rental agreement while I wait for the mortgage to be finalized. She agreed to have the necessary paperwork and keys ready for me at the showing.
"I'll be back in a few hours," I say to Susie as I walk past her desk to leave. For the first time today, I'm thankful I've not taken any pain medication since I got home from the hospital. If I had, I wouldn't be able to drive right now.
"I'll take messages if anyone calls," she assures me as the door closes between us.
Less than two hours later and after a whole lot of trouble driving the Bugatti with one hand, I'm back at my desk making calls regarding the status of my projects. The apartment is as perfect as I thought it would be. I had the realtor put a bid in, and I requested that she facilitate the rental agreement that would have me in the apartment within the next few days.
I'm so enthralled with the project plan I'm working on that I don't even glance at my phone when it rings. I just pick it up. "Triple R Enterprise. This is Baylee. Can I help you?"
"You bitch! Why would you file a restraining order on me? Do you really want people to think I'm a monster? You need to come back to our apartment right now and forget everything that's happened in the last week."
Colt has my full attention. "Colt, I'm going to ask that you not contact me in any way. I spent half the night at the emergency room. I have a broken wrist and eight stiches. That is what a monster does to someone he claims to love."
"You know that was an accident," Colt says defensively.
I hear an anxious knock on my door and know Susie has been given strict instructions to monitor my phone line. I probably answered quicker than she could get to it.
My voice gets louder. "No. What I know is that the man I trusted more than anyone has turned into a complete stranger, one who scares me to death."
"Don't say that, Bay. I love you. I love you more than I love anyone or anything. I can't live without you. You have to see that," Colt says, and I lived with him long enough to know that I've hurt him.
"Colt, I'd like for you and me to have a cooling off period. We can meet for supper in a month and talk... really talk, but I'll only do that if you stay away from me and stop calling me until then. You need time to put everything into perspective, and we don't need to talk when we're so emotional."
Colt yells, "Hell yes, I'm emotional! I think I've just lost the best thing that's ever happened to me. I just want things to go back to the way they were, and I don't want to wait a month before that happens."
In the background, I hear Susie jiggling the lock. She'll be in here any second.
"Colt, I'm going to ask that you"—I look up just as an anxious Susie makes her way into my office—"abide by the restraining order and not call me again," I say as assertively as I can before I hang up.
My hands are shaking and my heart is racing, but I don't want Susie to see how upset I am about Colt's stalking. The fact that the restraining order doesn't seem to be helping and Colt's mental instability seems to be progressively getting worse frightens me. There is almost no trace of the old Colt left.
The old Colt was confident and sure. He sure as shit was not mean and hateful. I meant what I said when I told him he was a stranger to me
"I'm sorry, Baylee. I was at the coffee bar when the phone rang. I-if you'd just let it ring from this point forward, I'll screen your calls and make sure you only get business calls."
I swallow back my tears and nod. It's all I can do. Unsure of what else to say or do, Susie slinks her way back out of my office, and I lean back in my chair, staring at the view but thinking long and hard about what I can do to keep myself out of danger while helping Colt. No matter how long or how hard I think about Colt, I can't come up with a plan to help him.
There's nothing I can do. He's the only one who can get the help he needs, I conclude hours later and right before I hear another knock on my door.
"Come in," I say.
Susie eases open the door. "Baylee, unless you need me, I'm leaving for the day. My daughter has a three-month-old that's been real sick. Her husband is a firefighter with the Houston Fire Department, and he's in the middle of a two-day shift, which means she needs me to watch their two-year-old twins so she can finally get some rest. If it weren't for them, I'd stay until you left."
I can tell by the way Susie is wringing her hands that she's torn between being there for her daughter and staying with me. I decide to make it easy for her. "I'm leaving in just a few minutes. Go take care of your grandkids. I'll be fine," I say, offering Susie a genuine smile.
I'm not actually leaving to go to the airport for another few hours. I hate deceiving Susie, but the little white lie is necessary so she doesn't worry about me while she takes care of her family.
Sighing, she visibly relaxes. "Thank you, Baylee. I know Ryker wouldn't want me to leave you... not today anyway."
I shake my head. "Don't you think another thing about it. Your daughter needs you way more than I do. Ryker's just being overprotective."
"I'll see you and Ryker tomorrow," Susie says, closing my door on her way out.
As soon as she leaves, the entire floor, the one that has only three offices (Ryker's, Susie's, and mine), goes church quiet. Something about it is eerie. Thinking I could use some company, I call Sabrina's office to see if she's still in the building. It's after five and my call goes straight to voicemail.
Rather than focus on the scary silence, I take advantage of it and use the uninterrupted time to work on my projects. I get so focused on problem-solving the biggest challenges facing my projects that I lose track of time. When I glance at my watch, I see that it's 7:15.
Damn!
I only have forty-five minutes to make it to the airport and find out where to pick up Ryker. I turn my phone on—ignoring the dozens of texts from Colt—and message Ryker.
Me: I'm running late. I'll be there as soon as I can.
Ryker: Take your time. I don't mind waiting.
Me: 'Kay. I'm on my way now.
I grab my purse, my phone, and the key fob for the Bugatti before leaving my office. The reception area near the elevator is especially eerie this late at night. It's unseasonably dark outside, which leaves nothing but the sea of high-rise lights dotting the skyline as the only light coming into the building. Given the office lobby's darkness, I assume the lights on this floor are on a timer. I make a mental note to ask Susie to have them stay on later.
In the near darkness, the elevator's glowing downward arrow button is like a beacon. I hurry over, push it, and wait for it to arrive so I can get to the garage as quickly as possible. To my dismay, it takes so long that I actually contemplate taking the stairs down. As soon as I consider the stairs a possibility and as if on cue, the elevator chimes, letting me know it's about to arrive. I rush into it before it fully opens. As quick as a flash, I'm in and ready to go... ready to see Ryker.
After pushing the B3 button, I wait patiently while it takes me to the basement. When I make it to the garage where the Bugatti is parked and the elevator doors open, I see that the garage is darker than the one at Ben Taub's emergency room and more eerie than the area outside my office. For a fleeting minute, I think about going to the lobby and finding someone—anyone—who will walk me to the car.
When I remember I'm already late, I put on my big girl panties and step out of the
elevator and into the garage. Because of the darkness and the fact that the Bugatti is parked on the other side of the concrete divider (in my very secluded spot), I can't see it. I just walk blindly in its direction.
As soon as I round the corner and lay eyes on Ryker's Bugatti, I know something is wrong. Next to it is a car that resembles my Lexus, the one Colt took when he left me. I find it odd that the trunk is open. I can't make out what it is, but I know something is hanging out of it. Taking a few steps closer and trying to decide if it is really my car, I hear a noise behind me.
My internal alarm screams danger, and I know instinctively that the best thing I can do is get back to the lobby now. I spin around. As soon as I do, I run into the chest of a man. A man I didn't even know was standing behind me.
I open my mouth to scream, but before I can, a hand covers it, muffling my cry and making it useless. The man leans intimately into my ear and says, "Bay, it's me. I won't hurt you. I just want to talk."
Colt! Holy fuck! It's Colt!
CHAPTER 22
ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE
Baylee
Colt may be saying he wants to talk, but I can tell by his tone he really means that he expects me to listen, expects me to give him another chance, expects me to forget everything that's happened and leave Ryker.
I won't leave Ryker.
I remember what the chief told me. I nod—appeasing him—until I can run toward the stairs and make my way to the lobby. It's going to be hard to get away from him. Colt may work lots of hours, but his office has a gym, and he makes time to work out an hour in the morning and another hour at night.
He's in better shape than me, and he doesn't have all of the injuries I have.
"Good girl!" Colt says, pulling me into his arms and hugging me. "I've been missing you so much. I don't think you have any idea how much I love you," he murmurs, taking his hand off my mouth.
"Colt, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be near me," I scold gently.
"Bay, you can't keep me away from you. I need you to come back to me and for you to realize how sorry I am about everything that's happened. You can't do that if I can't see you," he says into my neck, kissing me like we're still together.
I gulp and fight my instinct to pull away from him and run. He seems less manic than he did last night. I hope and pray this means reasoning with him will be a little easier.
"Colt, I'm going to get into my car, and you're going to get into yours. Then you and I are going to go over to the House of Blues and have a drink or two. We do need to talk, but it can't be here," I reason.
Colt laughs. "Bay, we're leaving here together, and we're going home to the apartment where we've lived for the last two years. You and me. When we get there, we're going to have supper and we're going to talk. After that, we're going to go to bed together just like we have almost every night for the last four years... just like we will every night for the next forty years."
Colt is delusional. The way he's talking to me and holding me and assuming I'm going to willingly go home with him and pretend we've never broken up—that's he's not abused me—sends new alarms pinging through my thoughts.
I need to get away from him as soon as possible.
"We can go home, babe. You and me. We'll go home, have a nice supper, a glass of wine, and we'll talk," I say, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Even to my own ears, I'm convincing.
Colt relaxes his grip the tiniest bit but not nearly enough for me to make an escape. Over Colt's shoulder, I see the Bugatti and roll the key fob around in my hand.
If I can get close enough to the driver's door, I can jump in and drive off. That will be the quickest way for me to get away from him.
Pacifying Colt and hoping he'll trust me enough to lessen his hold, I focus all of my efforts on a plan geared toward getting away from him.
"Colt, I'm glad you found me. I was going to come see you tomorrow myself. I'm sorry about filing those papers. I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. I-I was just upset after last night," I say nervously, glancing down at my left hand where the fob is.
I wish Colt hadn't broken my right wrist. I'm right-handed. This entire escape is going to be a lot more difficult if I have to do everything with my left hand.
Dammit!
Colt lets go of me and slides his hand down, entwining his fingers with my casted fingers.
He looks down at my injury. "Damn, Bay! What happened?"
I want to roll my eyes and ask him if he even remembers anything that happened at the hotel room last night. Instead, I shrug, shake my head, and make a point of not laying blame on him.
He's not stable and telling him he did this may send him over the edge.
"Nothing. I'm just clumsy. That's all."
Colt nods. "Yeah. I need to do a better job of taking care of you. I'm going to find a new job... get away from Wyatt and Eden. That way I can be home with you more," Colt says, lifting my fingers to his lips and kissing them. "Let's get you home, babe," he insists, leading me toward the passenger side of the Lexus.
Before getting too far away from Ryker's car, I click the key fob. The Bugatti lights up and beeps, letting me know the door is open.
"I'll follow you," I say, dashing toward the Bugatti.
As soon as I pull on the door's handle and I have it open the tiniest bit, Colt grabs my shoulders and squeezes them tight enough to cause new bruises.
"You're never going to drive that fuckhead's car again. You're going to ride with me," Colt says, gritting his teeth near my ear.
When he begins pulling me away from the car, I know it's now or never. I swing the car door open and at the same time thrust my cast in the direction of his groin. He's quick enough to avoid the groin shot, but he's not nearly swift enough to sidestep the door coming violently at him.
With a loud thud, it slams into his leg. When he lets go of me to grab his knee with both hands, I open the door and slip into the car. Before I can close myself in, Colt squeezes his hip through the opening.
With shaky hands, I push the start button on the dashboard. The car's motor jerks to life right before Colt grabs me by the hair and pulls me out of the car. After I'm out and lying on the concrete, he grasps my broken wrist and pulls me toward the back of his car... toward the open trunk. Without letting go of me, he reaches into the back of the Lexus and pulls out a blue washcloth.
I'm kicking and screaming—every yell echoing off the walls of the deserted garage—when he covers my mouth and nose with the cloth. Before I can scream one more time and before I can land another punch, my eyes roll back in my head and every muscle in my body goes limp. The shadowy garage fades into a sea of unending darkness.
Ryker...
* * *
I'm too drugged to wake up fully, but a blink of my eyes—after an unknown amount of time has passed—and a quick look around tells me I'm in the trunk of the Lexus. Before I can knock out a taillight or pull a release latch, the inky blackness takes over again.
* * *
When my eyes flicker open next time, Colt is carrying me over his shoulder, slapping me on the ass, and laughing with Zeb, the gym Nazi.
"Yeah, man. She's drunk as shit. I'm going to take her home and let her sleep this off. She's going to be real embarrassed about this in the morning."
I may be drug-addled, but I know I only have seconds before I pass out again. I take advantage of my time by slurring my safe word. "Ariannna... Ariannna... Arrrriana..."
"Who's Ariana?" Zeb asks, laughing.
"Aaariana..." I say, grabbing Zeb's hand, holding on for dear life and silently pleading for him to know I'm in danger.
"She's drunk. There's no telling," Colt says, opening the apartment door, pulling my hand from Zeb's, and going inside the home we'd shared for two years.
An instant before Colt shuts the door, I make eye contact with Zeb, who is looking at me with all of the concern he should be feeling, and I use every ounce of energy I have left to very clearly say, "Ariana."
/>
After the door closes between Zeb and me, a sense of despair overtakes me. Then, without warning, the drug-induced lethargy consumes me and I pass out... again.
* * *
I have no idea how much time has passed when I wake next. I'm confused, disoriented, and trying my best to get up and run away. My lids are heavy, and it takes all my remaining strength to pry them open, to look around, to see where the hell I am.
Goddamn, my head hurts... and...
I look at my wrists and see that they are both tied and bound with a chaffing nylon rope despite having a cast on one of them.
What the hell?
I jerk my hands, pulling as hard as I can. I only succeed at binding them tighter. Completely frustrated and refusing to appease Colt one more minute, I scream, "Colt, what the hell have you done?"
He's gone too far this time.
When Colt comes rushing into the bedroom, he's angry. Based on the way he's dashing around, he assumed I'd be out for a lot longer. In the blink of an eye, he picks up the remote to his Bose stereo and turns the music on loud enough to cover up any noise I might make. I don't let it stop me.
"HELP!" I yell as loudly as I can before stopping to say, "Colt! You can't do this to me. You'll be arrested, get disbarred, and lose your job if you don't let me go." Then I go back to yelling. "HELP!"
As if something I've said suddenly sinks in and my cries for help tell him how anxious I am to get away from him, a glimmer of panic crosses Colt's face. He rushes into the closet with the same urgency he had when he dashed for the remote earlier.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
When he comes out, he glares at me with pure determination. He's holding the two ends of a scarlet red tie. Everything about Colt's grip on it tells me the tie is meant to be used as a weapon and to shut me up forever. This Colt... this cold-blooded killer Colt frightens me more than ever.
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